Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

With Mama ER.

And it kicked me in the teeth and gut so hard that after stopping by here, the hospital, right after church today I went home and slept hard, in self-defense, for a few hours while Dr. ER and Big Brudder sat with her.

My heart broke. It's being patched.

Thanks to Mr. D, at church, who stops by this blog a lot, who made sure I saw him this morning and got a handshake and hug -- and to Mrs. D, too. But I confess I was in such an exhausted emotional daze this morning, I'm not sure who I saw and talked to.

Dr. ER asked me about church, and all I could say was: "Words. Music." I needed to be there, in the presense of mine friends, brothers and sisters. I've said it before: The place drips with Grace. That's what I needed.

Now: Cowboying up.

A CAT scan yesterday showed no hemmorhage ... hemor ... hemmer ... dang it, somebody else look it up -- no bleeding in the brain. A CAT scan tomorrow will determine whether it was, in fact, a stroke and, if so, how severe.

She's over there now, moving around her right hand and arm.

Looked like she was sprinkling flour and patting down dough. Then she kept picking up the edge of her blankie, and it looked like she was hanging laundry on a clothesline. She's dreaming.

She knew Dr. ER and Big Brudder were here all day, and she made us all a smoochy face when asked. ... Damn it to hell, this is hard. Damn eyes are leaking.

... Ahem. Saw the doc in the cafe earlier. He said, and this is a significant shift: "We're doing what we can. I'm ready for her to act more like 60 than 84. Hang in there, pardner. We're doing what we can."

The italed parts are what's new. A sign that the doc, for all his ability, is now doing what I tried and failed to do last night: Putting Mama ER in God's hands.

I did that last night, then took her back -- and I know this is just a metaphor for how we human beans *deal* with this kind of thing, because He really does have the whole world in His hands, one person, one heart, one life at a time.

Made me think of a line I picked up years ago from a Baptist preacher.

We are to make our lives living sacrifices to God. The problem with living sacrifices is they sometimes crawl off the altar. It's an on-and-off thing with me, as it is with anyone who's honest.

Tonight, me and Mama ER are on.

--ER